


Between You and Me

by unbecomings



Series: Runnin' Down A Dream [3]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbecomings/pseuds/unbecomings
Summary: Lindsey and Rose keep getting walked in on.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Rose Lavelle
Series: Runnin' Down A Dream [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478657
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Between You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is rated T+ because they don't actually have any explicit sex, but they do talk about it and it is the whole point of this fic. It's a continuation of the Rose/Lindsey arc of Runnin' Down a Dream (my soulmate au universe), so you'll want to read that first.

“C’mere,” Rose says, tugging Lindsey by the sleeve of her sweatshirt. It’s cold; their friends are down the hall watching something in Rose’s living room. 

“Now?” Lindsey whispers, but she lets Rose pull her along. This thing with them is new enough that Lindsey’s still figuring it all out, but she knows one thing: anytime she has the chance to be alone with Rose, even for a second, she’s gonna take it. 

“We can be gone for a few minutes,” Rose says, “what are they gonna do?”

She walks backwards into her room and Lindsey’s stomach flips. She’s been in Rose’s room before, but not since—

“They’ll come looking for us,” Lindsey says.

“You should think less,” Rose counters, pulling Lindsey by the sleeve until Lindsey is practically standing on top of her. She doesn’t turn a light on. She tilts her head back and stares at Lindsey’s mouth, and Lindsey stands and stares and does nothing about it. 

“Kiss me,” Rose says, rolling her eyes, and Lindsey grins. She wanted to hear it and it makes her feel something that Rose could tell. She’s not sure what the feeling is, just that it’s coiling in her stomach and making it hard to breathe. She leans down and kisses Rose, and Rose fumbles with Lindsey’s hand in her sweatshirt sleeve until she can thread their fingers together. 

Rose is so much softer when they do this than she is when she speaks. It makes Lindsey smile into the kiss thinking about it, how Rose only goes soft like this with her. Rose is shorter enough that Lindsey is leaning down pretty far, and eventually she makes up her mind to do something about it. She bends at the knees and grabs Rose around the waist. When she tosses Rose over her shoulder like a fireman, Rose squeals, and Lindsey tosses her back onto her bed. 

“Now they’re really going to know we’re in here,” Lindsey says, following Rose onto the bed. 

The thing is—they haven’t done this. 

Well, they’ve done _this_, but they haven’t done...anything else. And Lindsey wants to, and they’ve talked about it a little, but it’s not like they’ve had a lot of time. Lindsey feels so big like this, and it surprises her that it doesn’t feel bad. Usually when she notices how big she is she feels gross, but not with Rose, like this. The way Rose looks at her, curling her fingers into the collar of Lindsey’s sweatshirt, makes Lindsey feel sexy. 

Rose exhales against Lindsey’s mouth. 

“They’re gonna think we’re in here having sex,” Lindsey blurts. She’s so aware of their bodies pressed together, the best that’s building between them. 

“I wish we were,” Rose says, and Lindsey blushes deeply. She knows that Rose wouldn’t say it if she didn’t mean it. She knows that Rose means it, knows it even before Rose hooks a leg over her hip. And God, now Lindsey is thinking about it, imagining Rose’s mouth hot under hers and what Rose’s skin would feel like under her hands. 

She leans down to kiss Rose again and gets lost in it immediately, melting a little when Rose catches her lower lip between her teeth. And then the light flips on. 

“Oh shit,” Mal says.

Lindsey sits up immediately, scrambling off of Rose, her heart in her throat. 

“Mal,” Rose says, “what the fuck?”

“I was looking for—“ Mal starts, and then she laughs. 

They go back to the living room. They do not hook up. Under the blanket Rose takes Lindsey’s hand and places it on her knee, and Lindsey ends up thinking about that moment for weeks to tide her over. 

-

Lindsey and Rose have never played nice. They don’t play nice now either, even though they know that they’re soulmates. Rose steps on the back of Lindsey’s cleat and Lindsey hip-checks her. Rose slaps Lindsey’s hand away from her and Lindsey kicks the ball directly off of Rose’s shin on purpose. But they’re laughing most of the time, they don’t mean it the same way that they did. 

It’s almost flirtatious. 

Almost. 

Except that Lindsey really needs them to win this game. And they should be winning it convincingly, but Rose is such a pain in the _ass_.

When they run next to each other, chasing the ball, Rose runs half on top of her, a hand fisted into the tail of Lindsey’s jersey but not pulling. Lindsey is focused on that and trips over Rose’s feet and eats shit, hard enough that she spits out grass when she sits up. She’s about to bitch about it when she looks up and finds Rose extending a hand to help her up, grinning ear to ear. 

She loves that smile. It makes her feel stupid. It makes _her_ smile as she pulls herself to her feet, but the moment Rose turns away Lindsey’s frustration comes back tenfold. That feeling stays with her until Emily kicks a ball that slams directly into Rose’s face and Rose stays down for just a half a second too long. 

Lindsey doesn’t want to hover. She knows she failed at it because when Rose leaves the field after a profuse apology from Emily, Emily gives Lindsey a guilty look. 

“Sorry,” Emily mumbles. 

“It’s not my head,” Lindsey snaps. 

When Emily recoils, Lindsey takes a deep breath. 

“Sorry,” she says, “it’s fine, you didn’t mean to, she’ll be fine.”

But she’s not so sure of that until after the game, when she shows up to Rose’s hotel room, rocking nervously up onto her toes and back down onto her heels while she waits for Rose to answer the door. When she does, she pulls Lindsey inside by the hand and Lindsey knows for sure that Rose will be fine. 

“That game was awesome,” Rose says, “I wish I got to play you every week, I love getting under your skin, it’s so much fun.”

“Rose,” Lindsey says, reaching for her face, touching where her skin above her eye is a little red, “don’t you have a concussion?”

“Oh, yeah,” Rose says, “I do. But it’s my first one and they said I’ll be fine in a few weeks. Hey, sorry I took you out earlier. Okay, not really, but I felt like I should say sorry.”

Lindsey takes Rose’s hand and pulls her over to the bed. She sits next to her and tried to get a good look at Rose’s eyes, to tell if she’s actually as okay as she sounds. 

“Linds,” Rose says, “I’m fine.”

“Concussions are scary,” Lindsey murmurs. Rose is quiet for a second before she takes Lindsey’s hand and holds it in both of hers. 

“It’s cute that you’re worried about me,” she says. 

“I’m not trying to be cute,” Lindsey says. 

“Makes me wanna kiss you,” Rose continues, as if Lindsey never spoke. 

Lindsey puts her free hand on the bed next to Rose and leans down to kiss her. It’s a chaste kiss, not meant to start anything, but Rose has other plans. She places one hand on Lindsey’s chest and bites at Lindsey’s lower lip until Lindsey gasps and opens her mouth into the kiss. Rose is insistent, swinging her leg over so she can settle into Lindsey’s lap. Lindsey breaks the kiss and Rose frowns at her, tugging on the hem of Lindsey’s t-shirt. 

“Are you sure?” Lindsey squeaks. It’s not sexy. 

“Do I look unsure?” Rose asks, and Lindsey has to admit she doesn’t. Lindsey is certain nobody’s ever looked at her like this—like she’s one hundred percent exactly what they want. Not that she has much experience with this in general, but still, the way Rose is focused on her makes her breath come short.

“I don’t want to mess up your brain,” Lindsey says. 

“Be careful then,” Rose replies. 

Lindsey can do that. Despite her hesitation, and despite the venue, she does really, _really_ want to do this with Rose, so she lets Rose tug her shirt over her head and drops it to one side. She places her hands on Rose’s hips and feels a rush of protectiveness when it hits her how small Rose is. Not fragile—never fragile—but Lindsey so badly wants to take care of her, to protect her. Rose trips her fingertips along Lindsey’s collarbones and shoulders, and everywhere she touches it feels like she leaves a trail of fire. 

When Rose breaks the kiss, Lindsey noses along her jaw, peppering kisses from the corner of Rose’s mouth along her neck and down to her shoulder, over her shirt. She’s just toying with the hem of Rose’s t-shirt when someone knocks on the door. 

“Ignore it,” Rose murmurs, and Lindsey hesitates, exhaling against Rose’s throat. 

The knock comes again. Then, when nobody moves-

“Rosie?” Emily says, and her voice is quiet and reedy and both of them can tell immediately that Emily is upset. 

Rose sighs and slips out of Lindsey’s lap. She doesn’t hesitate to go to the door, and suddenly Lindsey is scrambling to find her shirt. She doesn’t quite get it back over her head before Rose opens the door, having just snatched it off the floor, and she makes eye contact with Emily over Rose’s shoulder that makes her blush embarrassingly hard. It’s not like Emily’s never seen her with her shirt off, but now it’s so obvious what she and Rose were doing. 

“Oh,” Emily says, “sorry, am I...interrupting?”

“No,” Lindsey says, at the same time that Rose says, “Yeah.”

“I brought you ice cream.” Emily says to Rose, holding up two pints. “I mean, I brought us ice cream. But I understand if you don’t wanna hang out. Since I knocked your brain around. Sorry.”

“I know you’re trying to catch up to my natural intelligence,” Rose says, “it’s okay.”

Lindsey steps into her flip flops and joins them at the door, just barely touching Rose’s lower back. Still, even though she was trying to be subtle, Emily definitely notices it and turns a shade of pink Lindsey’s not sure she’s ever seen before. 

“You guys should make up,” Lindsey says, “have your ice cream and...watch a movie or something.”

“Are you lactose intolerant all of a sudden?” Rose quips, and Lindsey makes a face. Rose makes a face right back, but she steps away from the door to let Emily in, and goes over to the TV to turn it on. Lindsey reaches out and squeezes Emily’s shoulder, though she couldn’t really say why. An apology maybe, for having to see what she saw. 

“Thank you,” Emily mumbles, “sorry.”

“No worries,” Lindsey says. And then, over her shoulder to Rose, “goodnight.”

-

Alex is Lindsey’s roommate. Lindsey is still terrified of her. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Alex says, digging in her suitcase. 

“Like what?” Lindsey asks. She’s texting Rose _SOS_ as she speaks. 

“Like I’m going to jump you and steal your lunch money any second,” Alex says.

“Are you not?” Lindsey jokes, and Alex raises an eyebrow at her.

“As if I need your lunch money,” she says, and Lindsey laughs, but Alex doesn’t, and she feels weird. She always feels weird around Alex, like she’s 17 and fangirling all over again, like Alex can _tell_. Okay, Tobin was the one Lindsey was really in awe of, but it’s not like she didn’t freak out the first time she met Alex, too. 

“I’m meeting Serv for dinner,” Alex says, “don’t throw a party.”

“Yes mom,” she says, and Alex rolls her eyes on the way out. 

Lindsey is not going to throw a party, but she _is_ going to text Rose. The second she does, her heart starts to race, and she feels so stupid, so giddy, like a high schooler right before prom. She shouldn’t feel like this--her heart shouldn’t be fluttering when she knows that Rose is her soulmate already, she knows how Rose feels about her, and she knows exactly what they’re going to be doing when Rose comes over. 

The thing is, they still haven’t done much more than kiss yet. And Rose is always so sure of herself, and Lindsey is so afraid to disappoint her, so afraid to be the one who’s unsure when she has no reason to be.

When Rose knocks and Lindsey opens the door, everything else stops mattering. Rose steps inside and kicks the door shut behind her and smiles, and Lindsey smiles back, every dumb joke she’s ever had dying on her lips at once.

“Which bed is yours?” Rose asks, and Lindsey blushes. She can’t quite answer before Rose clarifies, reaching for the drawstring of Lindsey’s sweats to twirl it around her finger, “I don’t want to make out with you on Alex’s bed, she’ll be able to tell. I have a lot of life left to live, Horan.”

“Shut up,” Lindsey says, batting Rose’s hand away and nudging her gently back towards the bed she claimed, closer to the window. 

Rose is the one to push her, a hand firmly in the center of Lindsey’s chest, and Lindsey lets herself be pushed. She lays back against the pillows and Rose straddles her lap, leaning down to kiss her like it’s nothing. And while it may be nothing to Rose, it sets Lindsey on _fire_, makes every hair on her body stand on end, makes her lose her mind. She places her hands on Rose’s hips, slides them up over Rose’s ribs, and Rose makes a sound against her mouth.

Lindsey wasn’t expecting it. It turns everything she knows about this on its head. Maybe Rose isn’t as confident as she looks. Maybe Rose _isn’t_ perfectly in control. Lindsey rides the wave of confidence that comes with that realization and flips them, dropping Rose on the mattress and pressing her down into it. Rose makes that sound again and Lindsey pushes her hand up under Rose’s shirt and Rose hikes a leg over her hip and-

Alex opens the door. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Alex says, covering her eyes, “Jesus Christ, no.”

“Ignore her,” Rose mumbles, but Lindsey’s hand is on her bra and she can’t. 

“I just want my wallet,” Alex says, “I won’t look.”

“We’re not doing anything,” Lindsey says, sitting up. 

“Your hand was _on_ my boob,” Rose complains, and Alex makes a loud, pained sound. 

“Stop,” Alex wails, “stop torturing me, I’m leaving.”

When she closes the door, Rose sighs, covering her eyes with her hands. 

“I have to kill her,” Rose says, “she’s seen too much.”

“Rose,” Lindsey says, “can we like—we can just watch a movie or something.”

“You don’t want to—?”

Lindsey is surprised and relieved that Rose doesn’t say much more or tease her. Surprised especially when Rose sits up against the headboard and looks concerned, in a way that makes Lindsey want to reassure her. 

“I do,” Lindsey says, “I so do, I really do.”

“But,” Rose says, “Alex killed the mood.”

“No,” Lindsey says. Rose raises an eyebrow at her and Lindsey blushes. 

“Well yes,” she clarified, “but also, I think—I just—I don’t want our first time to be...in a hotel room.”

Lindsey knows she’s blushing, but she’s still shocked when Rose turns bright red. For a moment she’s afraid that Rose is mad, but then Rose drops her eyes to her hands and she’s wringing them when she speaks again. 

“I didn’t realize,” she mumbles, and Lindsey reaches for her, touching Rose’s wrist so that Rose will look at her again. 

“I didn’t say anything til now,” Lindsey says, “I didn’t expect you to read my mind.”

“I mean, I’m in your head,” Rose points out, and Lindsey supposes that’s true, in a way. 

“It’s okay,” she says, since she’s not sure what else she can offer. 

“I don’t want you to think I want this to be like that,” Rose says, “like a hotel hookup, I don’t do that but I never would with you.”

“I know,” Lindsey says, and she does. She just wants to take her time, wants them to be comfortable, wants them to be in her room in her apartment with a door that locks and natural light in the morning and sheets that will still smell like Rose when she has to leave again. 

“I wouldn’t even if you weren’t my soulmate,” Rose says, threading their fingers together, “even if you weren’t I would still...want this to mean something. Because you do. Mean something, I mean. You always did.”

Lindsey pulls Rose in to kiss her, at a loss for words and knowing she won’t need them. Rose melts into it and Lindsey can feel the relief in the way Rose smiles against her mouth. 

Dozing off with Bridesmaids on, Rose resting in her lap, playing with her fingers, is the best time she’s ever had. 

-

When it does happen, it’s five in the afternoon on a Thursday. 

They’re in Lindsey’s room, alone in the apartment, a few weeks before Christmas. It’s raining, too warm to snow but cool enough that Rose came in a jacket, a jacket that Lindsey peels off of her slowly, taking her time because she can. Rose doesn’t rush her. For once she doesn’t seem to have anything to say, no snappy joke to make. Instead she leans into Lindsey and Lindsey carries her weight.

It’s nothing big, nothing groundbreaking, not like the first dream was. It’s a lot of little moments, Rose’s dull fingernails digging into Lindsey’s shoulders, Rose’s dark hair against Lindsey’s sheets, Rose’s breath against Lindsey’s ear. Lindsey letting Rose flip them over, feeling the way that Rose’s weight settles against her thighs, turning her face into Rose’s touch to kiss her fingers. It’s soft and a little awkward and it doesn’t take a very long time for either of them and when it’s over Lindsey rests her cheek against Rose’s chest and Rose runs a hand through her hair and it feels like they’ve been doing this forever.

“Linds,” Rose says, “you were right.”

“That’s hotter than anything you just did to me,” Lindsey mumbles, and Rose drops her hand to Lindsey’s shoulder to pinch her.

“I’m glad we waited,” Rose says, and Lindsey smiles into her shoulder.


End file.
